Something wicked this way comes
—Shakespeare
There’s something peaceful about winter term on campus—maybe it’s the snow from January to March that muffles traffic sounds in layers of cotton batten.
My friend and colleague Tom Knight would laugh and call me a romantic and maybe he’s right, but I’m entitled—a professorship in my mid-thirties necessitates hard work and the occasional wistful reverie should be forgiven me.
I’m not sure Janice Turner would agree. I’ve given up pursuing her—she’s too intense—still trying to win tenure and perhaps resentful of me.
I teach in the U of T at Victoria College, named after Queen Victoria, of course, and probably as stodgy as she.
When I dine with the faculty we eat in an area under the late Queen’s death flag—now that should stimulate one’s appetite. Yeah, hardly.
Still, I enjoy the campus life close to Queen’s Park Crescent, named after the aforesaid monarch and busy Bloor Street, named appropriately after a tavern owner and reflecting the tastes of the undergraduate community.
I’ve asked Janice out for drinks but as you might guess this mermaid doesn’t call to me.
Tom thinks I should lower my sights to someone more accessible who doesn’t dwell in an ivory tower and lately I’m inclined to agree.
I mention it because I’m beginning to notice my graduate students, one of whom, named Victoria Mercer, seems somewhat interested, but I might be romanticizing and besides, it would pose a conflict of interest because she’s enrolled in my graduate seminar.
Well it remains to be seen if she’s truly intrigued by me or my prowess with Victorian prose and poetry.
Interestingly enough, Janice Turner remarked on the girl one day when we were dining with the faulty. She spotted her in the graduate section and pointed her out.
“I don’t know why but that girl creeps me out—she has a very strange vibe.”
“Oh, Victoria Mercer—she’s in my graduate seminar. A very good student—a Rhodes Scholar actually. She’s slated to finish her postgraduate work at Oxford.”
“I’m not commenting on her brains or evident beauty, Gray, I’m just saying I sense something weird about her.”
I turned my attention on Victoria to see if I could discern what Janice saw. It was strange in a way because the moment I focussed in upon her she abruptly rose and left the table and hurriedly walked away.
“See what I mean? Janice continued, “it’s as if the girl has radar and knows when she’s being observed.”
“Either that or she remembered she had a class,” I smiled. “I’ll say this, you’ve got me interested.”
Janice simply smirked, “I’m sure you were interested before I pointed her out. She’s a looker, and let’s face it, men look.”
I didm’t argue with Janice mostly because it’d be futile and turn into, he said—she said, and I was already on shaky ground with her.
But it was also because I was guilty as charged. I noticed her even before the winter term began and before I knew she’d be in my class.
She was incredibly beautiful with pale skin and long, glossy dark hair but her eyes were especially captivating, When she turned to look at me it seemed her gaze pierced through me.
I happened once that she glanced at me outside the Wymilwood Cafe and the experience left me shaken for the rest of the day.
Undoubtedly, the girl would bear watching, but to what end I couldn’t say.
But even if there were something untoward, I wasn’t sure I could turn away.